Sinister Syndromes by Jon Athan

Author:Jon Athan [Athan, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-04-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Club Blood

Alan muttered, “Such a shitty selection tonight... A fucking waste of time.” He took a sip of his whiskey, the cubes clanking in the glass, then he whispered, “Come on, where's the good meat? Where are the good girls?”

Alan leaned on the wall and sighed in disappointment. The club music, a raucous orchestra of constant thumps and whumps, dominated the dance floor; the ground vibrated from the rattling bass like if an earthquake had struck. The vibrant neon lights cycled between red, green, and blue, barely illuminating the dingy club. The swamped people swayed with the music, following the discordant tune's every demand.

Alan donned a white button-up shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows and the top three buttons unfastened. His fitted black jeans veiled his legs. His black dress shoes glimmered, even through the darkness and lingering musk. His dark brown hair was slick, waxed to perfection, and his beard was groomed. Alan appeared suave, ounces of charisma oozed from his glands. Yet, he was not drawing attention to himself.

Under the blaring music, Alan whispered, “What a waste of time...” As he despondently glanced at his phone, Alan said, “I wish Teddy were here to help... He could make this better.”

Alan glanced around his environment. He refused to leave without a prize. His potential victims were similar. The men wore casual slacks and coats, the women were clad in skimpy skirts and dresses. Most of the patrons were drenched in sweat, slimy and moist. If Alan wanted to abduct a woman, she'd probably slip through his fingers like a pig soaked in mud.

Upon spotting the arrogant, smug smiles on their faces, Alan simpered and shook his head. The men appeared to be on the prowl, searching for drunk and gullible women to exploit. The mere sight was hilarious. Alan was peerless in the art of prowling, romantically and maliciously. He could appear benign to steal a woman's heart, then transform into a savage beast to execute his victim. Covering his face with his hand, the killer couldn't help but chuckle.

As he recomposed himself, Alan caught a glimpse of a beautiful Japanese woman – Ericka Tanaka. The woman stood five-three with a slim figure; she was propelled to a fix-six stature by her sleek black high heels. She had silky black hair down to her shoulders and bangs down to her finely-trimmed eyebrows. She donned a tight black dress down to her thighs.

Without uttering a single word, her tender lips called for a kiss – to a prowler, at least. She was a beacon of beauty in a grungy nightclub, piercing through the filth and slime with her graceful elegance. Alan was immediately drawn to Ericka. He wanted her for sex, murder, and dinner. The other women were whisked away, blending with the shadows.

Alan licked his lips, then he whispered, “Tetsuya...”

Alan placed his drink on the adjacent table – it was no longer significant to his plans. He trudged through the dance floor, carelessly bumping into anyone and everyone.

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